In silvered glass, a face reflects,An echo of dreams and past defects.Do eyes convey the truth they find,Or weave illusions in the mind?Each line traced by light reveals,The tales we hide, the scars we feel.Yet truth and shadow dance in play,In mirrors that both heal and betray.What do you see, when you look deep?A soul awake, or one asleep?Trust not just sights, but heart's decree,In what you know and choose to beAdvanced words

In argent panes, a visage dwells,
Fragments of reveries, bygone spells.
Do ocular orbs, with candor, gleam,
Or conjure veils of mythic dream?

Each luminous contour, truth imparts,
Chronicles shrouded within our hearts.
Yet verity and phantoms in tandem sway,
In mirrors that mend and yet betray.

Perchance, when depths of glass you view,
An awakened spirit, or dormant hue?
Defer not solely to the eyes' decree,
But to the heart's profound veracity.

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In argent panes, a visage dwells, Fragments of reveries, bygone spells. Do ocular orbs, with candor, gleam, Or conjure veils of mythic dream? Each luminous contour, truth imparts, Chronicles shrouded within our hearts. Yet verity and phantoms in tandem sway, In mirrors that mend and yet betray. Perchance, when depths of glass you view, An awakened spirit, or dormant hue? Defer not solely to the eyes' decree, But to the heart's profound veracity.

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